


Only one word for yes

by Petra



Category: White Collar
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Multi, Negotiations, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Threesome - F/M/M, kink list
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-23
Updated: 2010-03-23
Packaged: 2017-10-08 06:24:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petra/pseuds/Petra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There has to be something better to do with a sunny Saturday than study an embezzlement case. Elizabeth has a suggestion for a conversation they ought to have instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only one word for yes

**Author's Note:**

> This story owes a debt to the [Kink Bingo kink list](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/2316.html), which is an unnamed guest star. Thanks to Betty, Carla, Giglet, Jam, and Scy for listening, and to Sage for beta-reading.

Three months or so after they find out the truth about Kate, Peter calls Elizabeth at work. "How do you feel about Italian on Thursday night?"

She's free, and if he is too, a date night sounds great. "Sure," she says, and takes out her PDA to note it.

"With Neal," he adds.

Elizabeth bites her lip and smiles. "I thought that might be part of the deal. Yes, of course."

"He actually hit on someone, El. Not just 'Hey, can I get you a coffee,' not just 'What a beautiful shawl,' or 'That is a nice color on you,' but with--the thing he does." Peter sighed. "I couldn't figure out whether to yell at him or pat him on the back for feeling better."

"Flirting is probably the better option. Do you know whether he's free Thursday?"

Peter puts his hand over the phone and says, half-muffled, "Caffrey, get in here."

"What's up?" Neal says after a few moments, far away over the phoneline.

"You're free Thursday night."

Elizabeth frowns. "Peter, that's supposed to be a question."

Neal says, "What about Thursday?"

"Give him the phone," Elizabeth tells Peter.

"El--all right." There is a clunk and a rustle as Peter hands it over.

"Hello, Elizabeth," Neal says. She can hear his smile. "What's going on Thursday?"

She can't help smiling in return, though he can't see her. "We wanted to know if you wanted to have dinner."

"I'd love to. Your place?"

That would be easier than reservations they might have to cancel, but--she takes a breath to steel herself and says, "Not for a first date."

She wishes she knew how Neal was reacting, and how Peter reassured him. She'll have to get Peter to tell her later. "Okay, no, I can see that," Neal says after a long pause. "Where and when?"

Their second date is Neal's treat, a sushi restaurant with prices that are inversely proportional to the amount of food on the plate but directly proportional to how delicious it is. Elizabeth drives Neal home with Peter a touch maudlin from the sake. "You know they have this place under surveillance," he says to Neal when Elizabeth pulls up.

"I'm not surprised." Neal reaches up from the back seat and pats his shoulder.

"If they didn't, I'd kiss you," Peter says, and turns around in his seat without remembering to take off his seat belt. "A lot."

Neal smiles. "So the answer to 'your place or mine?' is easy."

Elizabeth puts her hand over Neal's. "If you want to--"

Peter sighs. "No--we pulled up; they'd want to know what was going on. Just go in, Neal."

The way Neal frowns at that makes Elizabeth ache to kiss him. "Friday," she says. "Our place. I'll cook."

That lightens his expression enough that he almost looks like himself. He leans forward and kisses her cheek. "I'll bring the wine. See you then."

The sex is great, once Neal's sure enough of his welcome to be comfortable with it, once Peter's calm enough to admit how much he wants it, and once Elizabeth's certain enough that it will end well to go through with it. There's some awkwardness, which is only to be expected in a bed that contains six elbows and six knees, not to mention six feet, but there's also the part where Neal's smile goes all the way to his eyes when Peter says, "Kiss her again."

He feels like heaven when Elizabeth straddles him, and whimpers when Peter kisses him. It's easy from there, all primal rhythms until she comes, one hand bracing herself on Neal's shoulder and the other on Peter's, feeling his arm move as he teases her clit in just the right rhythm. When she has a breath to spare, she says, "It's all right," and Neal rolls his hips one last time and lets himself go.

"That was--" Neal shakes his head against the pillow. "Amazing. But I need to move."

"Are you okay?" Elizabeth reaches for the condom, a maneuver she hasn't had to use in years, and half-climbs, half-rolls off him.

Neal laughs. "Yes. God, yes." Once he's cleaned up a little, He puts his arm around Peter, sweaty and real. "What are you waiting for?"

Peter cups his cheek and Elizabeth waits for his answer as breathlessly as Neal does. He's said various things to her in the way he's always confessed his fantasies, straightforward and bashful at the same time. What he would like to do to Neal--she knows the list, but she's not going to speak for him, least of all because of how many of the scenarios are starkly practical, things like "Get him a real girlfriend" or "Make sure he's eating enough vegetables, for god's sake," or "Touch him for hours until he decides it's too late to go home."

"For you to do what you want," Peter says.

Neal hesitates, his fingers tracing a scar on Peter's side. He's turned away from Elizabeth, but she can hear his frown in his voice. "I want a whole lot of things. What can I have?"

Elizabeth lies down behind Neal and presses against him. "I think the menu's pretty wide open. Isn't it, honey?"

"Really, Neal." Peter kisses him again, teasing him with a nip at his lower lip, then a longer kiss until Neal pulls away to take a deeper breath. "We're right here. I'm--" he makes a self-deprecating face "--half-gone already from watching you and El. What do you need?"

"That's not the point." Neal kisses him again and sits up, looking rumpled and wry. "It's--all right, fine." He moves down the bed and takes Peter's cock in his mouth.

Peter shudders and makes a tight fist with one hand. "God, that's--"

Elizabeth kisses him and runs her fingers through Neal's hair, not pushing, not pulling, just feeling the dampness and the little jerks and pauses as he teases Peter. "Hang in there, sweetie," she says, and Peter groans.

"Not happening," Peter says, his eyes squeezed shut. "I--just like that, please--"

Elizabeth sits up enough to watch. Neal's mouth is red and wet from all of the kissing and a few frown lines of concentration show up on his forehead. "You should see this, Peter," she says, and he does.

"You're going to kill me," he says, and clutches Neal's shoulder. "I--damn--I'm going to come, God--"

Neal opens his eyes for a blink at that. Elizabeth wonders how many lovers he's had, brilliant and beautiful people in any number of glamorous places, and now he's here, squeezing Peter's hip and holding him through the shudders of his orgasm, in their perfectly normal bedroom, in their perfectly normal lives.

"You," Peter says, his voice hoarse, and pokes him in the arm. "Get up here."

Neal slithers up between them with a grin so smooth it looks professional. "What, have I lost my touch?"

"No." Peter puts an arm around him and rests his hand on Elizabeth's waist. He's falling asleep already, and she could've warned Neal about this problem, but most of the men she's had sex with fit the stereotype, so she didn't think to mention it. "Anything you want, we said, and that was what you wanted." He kisses Neal clumsily, his coordination fading out. "You're a real piece of work, Caffrey."

Elizabeth kisses Neal's neck. "I think he means 'Thank you.'" Peter's breathing has fallen into the pattern that means he'll only wake up for a major disaster in the next few hours, so he doesn't take her hint.

"Probably," Neal says, and edges backward into her arms by a warm inch. "That sounded a lot like 'You cracked the case that's been driving us crazy for months.'" His imitation of Peter's incredulous, grateful voice makes Elizabeth laugh because it's right and wrong at the same time.

"Well, you've been driving us crazy for a while."

He sighs. "It's been mutual, but I think I'm going to follow his lead for once."

"Good night."

"Sweet dreams."

Elizabeth isn't ready to sleep yet, but it's the second best way she knows to figure out what's bothering her that she can't put into words yet. The problem isn't having Neal there, but something's off. She wills herself to figure it out later. If she can't, tomorrow is Saturday, and she'll talk it through with Peter.

When she wakes up at 5:47 in the morning, she has an answer, or a set of possible answers. She also has Neal's arms around her and his face in the back of her neck, and going anywhere at all seems like a waste of a great opportunity. On the other hand, Elizabeth is afraid that if she goes back to sleep, she'll forget what she figured out, so she eases out of the bed as gently as she can.

Neal wakes up and says, "What--everything all right?"

"Everything's fine," she says, and tucks the blankets up around him to emphasize it. "I just have to go to the bathroom."

Neal nods sleepily. Elizabeth pulls out a pair of sweatpants and shirt, suitable for walking dogs at ungodly hours of the morning, and sneaks out to the bathroom.

Satchmo is up for a walk any time, and moving helps Elizabeth get her thoughts in order. She needs to get her revelation across to Peter and Neal in a way that won't make them go into denial all over again--especially Peter--and that leaves them ways to talk about solutions and possibilities. The thought of searching the internet blind makes her cover her mouth to keep the laughter in, even on the almost entirely empty streets.

By the time she gets back, she has a few Google queries in her head. She considers starting a pot of coffee, but it's only 6:15 and the smell would probably wake Peter up, if not Neal. She makes herself a cup of tea instead and tries the queries while her water is heating up.

After a few websites that haven't been updated anytime this decade, she finds a few examples of what she's looking for, skims them, stops herself from spitting her tea onto her laptop, and prints three copies of the most appealing list. A little determined searching through the random stuff drawer in the kitchen yields four highlighters--two yellow, one pink, and one green. It's not the color balance she'd give them if she had a stationery store at her fingertips, but sometimes it's better to sacrifice perfect materials for opportunity.

7-o'clock is not horribly early to start the coffee perking, especially since she needs a cup. By the time she's finished half of hers and the bedroom door hasn't opened, she wonders exactly what she's missing.

Peter takes good coffee black and bad coffee blonde and sweet. Neal likes his with three spoonfuls of sugar whether it's Maxwell House or Kona. She's found the bowl depleted enough times after he dropped by that she's started checking it whenever he's around. Two mugs make her slow on the stairs, and as soon as she sets one down to open the door Satchmo's there sniffing at it and she has to put on the mean mommy voice to say, "Get out of there."

"El? Are you okay?"

"It's just Satch." She opens the door and picks up the mugs. "He was after your coffee," she tells Peter, and pushes the door shut behind her with her foot. There is no room in their bed for three humans and a dog.

Peter and Neal are farther apart than she expected to find them. Their postures look like startled teenagers on a couch, and she wonders what she would've found them doing if she'd managed to sneak up on them. Then again, sneaking up on Peter tended to make him startle in ways that left him grouchy, and she didn't think Neal would be any better.

"Good morning. I hope you slept well." Neal gives her a bright smile. "Are you coming back to bed?"

She considers it, but it seems like it might be better to have the conversation she's been thinking about first. "I'm too hungry for that to sound as appealing as it should."

Peter takes the mug she offers him and sips it. "For coffee, I might forgive you for disappearing on us."

"What would you do for breakfast?" she asks.

"Everything we didn't get to last night," Peter says, and has another sip of coffee.

"Maybe after a shower, though." Neal runs a hand through his hair and makes a face.

Peter gets up, balancing the coffee as he does. "It's all yours." He kisses Elizabeth's cheek. "I can crack a few eggs for you."

"It would be more help if you chopped the sausage."

Neal laughs. "That sounds like too much violence at this time of day."

"A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do," Peter says, and sets his coffee down. "And I think I'd better get dressed."

Elizabeth says, "Not necessarily," just as Neal says, "If you must." She catches his eye and they're laughing together, as easily as they ever did.

"I'll see you downstairs," she says to both of them. "If you take too long, Satch and I are splitting the bacon."

That gets Neal out of bed in a naked flurry. "All right, I'm up."

Neal is downstairs in a pair of silk pajamas by the time the bacon is done, and she hands off the griddle, batter, and pancake flipper while she starts on the orange juice. It takes two oranges worth of squeezing before she's sure she has the right tone for the question, "Did you think you were going to need your PJs?" It's light, but not overly flippant.

"For this part," he says, and turns a pancake with a deft flick. "Not the rest of it--you don't strike me as the kind of woman who sleeps in a negligee, and if things hadn't worked out--" he gives her one of the looks she's getting used to seeing from him, something that goes deeper than surface charm "--I would've called a cab instead of pushing my luck."

"I'm glad everything went according to plan," Elizabeth says, then bites her lip and looks back at her oranges. "Not that there was a plan, exactly."

Neal raises his eyebrows. "Peter went into this without a plan?" This smile is more calculating. "He's finally learning from me."

"I haven't learned anything from you." Peter comes into the kitchen with his hair wet in his bathrobe. "Though those pancakes look better than mine do."

"How do you mess up pancakes?" Neal asks.

"They break in half and flop around." Peter shrugs and snags a cooked one off the plate, passing it from hand to hand until it's cool enough for him to hold long enough to bite into it. "But this is pretty good."

Elizabeth finishes the orange juice and opens the refrigerator for the butter and maple syrup. "Set the table, honey?"

"For breakfast?" Peter asks.

"We have company. Get the plates already."

Peter takes out three plates and sets them on the counter. "El, I hate to break it to you, but I don't see any company around here."

Neal turns off the stove and kisses Peter. "I'm not sure which sentiment I like better." He shrugs at Elizabeth when she sets the syrup and butter down by the plates. "I appreciate not being company, but I like a civilized meal with place settings." He kisses her as easily as he had Peter, soft and light with more than a hint of promise.

"We'll keep up standards at dinner," Peter says, "but breakfast is breakfast." He takes a plate and starts to serve himself, buffet style.

"What's the rule for lunch?" Neal asks Elizabeth.

"That depends on the day." She checks the coffee pot and goes to brew another batch; she and Peter can easily drink a pot between them, and once they get started on her after-breakfast project, they'll probably go through more.

Breakfast feels surreally mundane, as if everything should have changed but hasn't. "I'd better spend some time with the Winton files today," Peter says apologetically when he snags the last piece of bacon.

"Oh, god." Neal shakes his head. "Can't they wait until tomorrow?"

"What, are you going to lecture me on taking time off now?" Peter waves a finger at him. "You think I don't know how often you stay up all night working on something that's probably not technically illegal, but isn't exactly right either?"

"I slept eight hours last night," Neal says, putting on an innocent expression. "I have witnesses."

Elizabeth bites her lip and says, "If you really have to work on the files, all right, but I need something else from you first."

Peter says, "Witnesses," and reaches across the table to take Neal's hand for a quick squeeze. "What do you need, El?"

She gets up and puts the things that need to go back in the refrigerator away, then finds her markers and printouts, plus three pens. When she gets back to the table, Neal says, "There has to be something better to do with a sunny Saturday than embezzlement."

"Try this," Elizabeth says, and gives them both a copy of the list. It's one of the least disturbing and most wide-ranging collations of "kinks" she could find. "I know we had a couple of communication--issues--last night, and it might help if we were all on the same page."

Peter's ears are red with embarrassment. "Starting with page one: caning? What? That seems a little extreme."

Neal grins. "What, and 'bondage - wrist restraints' doesn't?"

Peter pats his hip, then looks around with a distracted expression. "They're over by the door if you want them."

Elizabeth clears her throat and puts the markers down. "Let's try color-coding to start with. Pink is like red, for no. Yellow is maybe. And green is, well, go. If you want to make other notes, that's what the pens are for."

Neal shakes his head, grinning, and reaches for the green. "All right."

Peter leans back in his chair and says, "You didn't make this list up, did you?"

Elizabeth covers her mouth with her hand and laughs, feeling her face heat, and takes one of the yellow markers. "God, no. There are things on here I wouldn't want in a million years."

"Good." Peter skims over the pages before he writes anything down. "Watersports? What is that, when you have sex in a hot tub?"

Neal coughs and looks up, his eyes wide. "You're kidding, right?"

"I'm not in vice. Or into vices like that, probably." Peter sets the list down. "Go on, what is it?

Neal is blushing, and Elizabeth is almost entirely certain he's not doing it on purpose. "Google it."

"Something off of this list? Striptease, voyeurism, and--no way am I googling a damn thing. Just tell me." He looks at Elizabeth. "Did you look these up?"

"Not yet. It's probably not 'having sex in water,' though, because you'd have said that already, right, Neal?"

"It has to do with peeing," Neal says, his eyes on the table.

Peter reaches for the pink marker. "Okay, no. Thanks, but no thanks."

"Does this mean you actually know what furries are?" Neal stares at Peter.

"I don't," Elizabeth admits. She hasn't gotten that far down the alphabet yet.

"We see plenty of Lifestyles of the Rich and Freaky, including their collections of fuzzy mascot uniforms with strategic holes." Peter shrugs. "But you don't have to dress up funny to pee."

Elizabeth looks at the list and shakes her head, trying to imagine either Peter or Neal in a giant costume as a sexual turn-on. "Anybody voting yes on that one?"

"No," Neal says. "My dry-cleaning bills are bad enough already."

"I wouldn't make you cover them on your salary," Peter says, then considers. "Wait, no, for that kind of kink I think I would."

Neal shakes his head. "Don't worry about it. Dressing well, yes; dressing up, sometimes; dressing like a bear, no."

"You probably don't believe me, but this is one of the least bizarre lists I found," Elizabeth says.

"Really?" Peter flips back to the beginning of his list and starts highlighting. "What kind of things are we missing?"

She wrinkles her nose. "Chamber pots stuck in my mind. And incredibly detailed lists of things to hit people with."

"We're back to peeing again?" Peter looks up, making a face.

"The more you fixate on that, the more I wonder whether you're just in denial," Neal says, and catches the marker Peter throws at him. "I'm just saying."

"It's a morbid fascination. And I'm glad we're skipping that list, El. Thanks. This one is--" Peter takes another marker "--bad enough."

"Just bad enough to be good?" Neal suggests.

"Some of it's all right," Elizabeth says. She looks at Peter's list, with its ranks of tidy colored lines, then at Neal's. "Do you want to compare the first page, or keep going?"

Peter flips his finished page to the back and switches markers again. "Do you want a comprehensive list or for us to get completely distracted?"

"Well, while we've got the chance, we might as well go all the way through it."

"Let's keep going." Neal reaches over and steals her marker with a wink and a warm brush of fingers. "If we start with the first page, Peter's going to get hung up on the various kinds of bondage and we'll never get to the embezzlement files."

Peter shakes his head. "I'll get hung up on it? You're projecting, Caffrey. I can take or leave just about everything on this list."

"It's not the food pyramid." Elizabeth takes another color and goes over the second page, looking for definite no's. "It's more like a spice cabinet."

"Full of bondage and begging and collars, oh my." Neal edges away from the table enough that she can't see his list.

Peter sighs and shifts in his chair. "This would be much easier if you'd shut up for once."

"Aw, is that d for dirty talk or g for gags?" Neal asks.

Elizabeth tries to decide whether ignoring the mental images they're giving her is the point of the exercise or dodging the point of the exercise. "Give me the green, Neal."

He flips it in his hand. "Why, what are you going to mark 'yes'?"

"What you just said." She holds her hand out and he kisses her palm, then gives her the marker.

"Some of these are really stupid," Peter says, and turns the page again.

Elizabeth frowns. There were a whole bunch of articles out there on how to talk about this kind of thing, and they all were clear that no one should ever say something like that. "Honey, that's not really what we're going for here."

Peter glares at the list. "I mean they're unsafe or illegal, or they'd leave a lot of evidence nobody should have lying around. Like the filming thing."

Elizabeth catches Neal's eye; he's trying not to laugh at least as hard as she is. "Mm. I don't know anyone who has folders of pictures of people he loves, you're right."

"Taken with government money," Neal says softly.

"That's--" Peter sighs. "That's not the same thing. We threw out all the naked ones."

"You had naked pictures of me?" Elizabeth asks, feeling herself blush. "That's--"

"Not you, no." Peter gives Neal a wry look.

Neal puts his hand over his face. "Kate was never very good at curtains."

Elizabeth reaches over and touches his knee, trying to be reassuring. "We will be. I promise."

"We'd better be, or we're all in trouble." Peter sighs. "Well, not you, El."

"You know I know how to be careful," Neal assures him, but the mood has shifted considerably.

"We'll take care of each other," Elizabeth promises them both, and gets a smile from Neal.

Peter gives her a hopeful look. "As long as we don't forget and get too comfortable."

Elizabeth winces. "We can do a lot of very comfortable things. Just--"

"There have to be boundaries," Neal says, and that's enough to make Peter relax.

"Thank god you've figured that out." He switches colors and goes back to highlighting.

They're quiet for a while, only the shift of papers and the occasional, "Toss me the green?" punctuating the time.

"There," Elizabeth says when she's finished. Peter is annotating his list with notes in his neat handwriting, and Neal is either doing the same or illustrating the entries; he borrowed a book from the shelf and is working with his list propped on his knee.

"That means we have to talk now, doesn't it?" Peter asks, and holds out his hand for Neal's paperwork.

Neal shakes his head and lays down the first page of his list, complete with colors, a few notes, and a drawing of a naked man with his hands bound over his head, his back arched. "If we put them side by side, they'll be easier to look at."

Elizabeth lines hers up with Neal's--there's more yellow and a little more red on hers, and she hasn't drawn any handy or erotic visual aids. On the other hand, there are bars of green in places she was sure she could've predicted but not at all sure she could've brought up while they were naked. "Okay, we have a starting place."

The addition of Peter's paper--more continuity of the green, and more yellow than she'd expected of him--gives them plenty of data to work with. He touches Neal's paper right under the drawing. "Too bad we're going to have to burn these."

"Burn them?" Neal frowns. "Just when I finally have proof you're getting off on the--" he reads the exact text of the entries, and Peter's notes "--'bondage, other, GPS comes in handy,' and 'collars, not necessarily on necks,' and 'costumes, that damn hat'?"

"What, do you want to frame them?" Peter frowns at him. "You've got the information, and you're not going to forget it."

"I've got plenty of--" Neal coughs. "I allegedly have plenty of papers you've never found."

Peter smiles. "Then you'll explain one of your methods to me, if you want these things to survive the day."

Neal nods. "Some of the things I theoretically have are past the statute of limitations anyway."

"Vinland?" Peter asks.

"For example." Neal flicks his finger against the paper. "But my point is, begging? I called that one."

Elizabeth puts her hand over Neal's. "One thing--he means you, or maybe me, but not him."

Neal kisses her, as sweet as maple syrup. "Thanks," he says, and traces another green line all the way across the pages. "Costumes?" he asks her.

"Your Devore makes me want crepe du chine," she admits. "Though not to a Dita von Teese level, exactly."

He looks her over as if he's never seen her in this light before. "You could pull it off."

"What are you talking about?" Peter asks.

"How we're going to talk you into getting the kind of suit you deserve," Elizabeth says.

He groans, but not unhappily. "I'm doomed."

"Besides, if we burned these, we'd never remember what all the yellows are." Neal puts his second page on top, then adds theirs. "And god, I need proof that you put 'dirty talk' down in yellow instead of red."

Elizabeth says, "He's been working on it," in Peter's defense.

"It just doesn't come naturally."

"I'm shocked, just shocked." Neal grins at Elizabeth. "It's a good thing the filming thing doesn't bother you."

"Us," she says, tracing the line across, green, green, and Peter's pink. "We'll be careful," she promises him.

He frowns and picks up a pen, turning his page toward himself long enough to write, "Clothing!" "We'd better be."

Elizabeth shifts in her chair. Some of the lines confirm that their minds are going the same dirty places hers is, and some of them make her want to drag them back to bed right then. The green of the double penetration lines doesn't shock her in the least, but it makes her wet and distracted. She looks for some of the definitely-no lines to push the arousal back. There are more on this page than the previous one: fisting, feet, and genital torture are all things that sound unappealing to everyone present. "I'm glad we're clear on electricity."

"I've been tasered, too," Peter says. "I'm sure that's not what it means in context, but some things are too close to home to belong close to my naked body."

"See also: gags," Neal says, and shakes his head. "Next page?"

"Sure." Elizabeth helps him flip them and line it all up. Neal's page has another drawing: a kneeling figure helpfully demonstrating "obedience."

Peter puts a hand on his shoulder. "I'm surprised at you."

"Why?" Neal gives him a sidelong look.

Peter clears his throat and reads down the veritable forest of green on Neal's list. "Obedience--as if you're any good at it, sex toys, more sex toys, orgasm denial, I have no idea what pegging is but it sounds uncomfortable, phone sex, authority figures roleplaying, and rough sex." He tilts his head and grins at Neal. "You're a pervert."

Neal splutters and grabs Peter's list. "Because you objected to what out of that--oh, pegging. Right." He shakes his head with a faux-sad expression. "Do you want to enlighten him, Elizabeth, or shall I?"

Revisiting that entry makes her blush. "I know what a strap-on is, but not pegging."

Neal closes his eyes for a pained moment. "Pegging is what you do with a strap-on if you're not a lesbian. Anal sex performed on a man by a woman."

"Oh." Peter grabs the green marker. "Give me that list."

Neal hands it over, then picks up Elizabeth's. Hers has more yellow on it than Peter's for this page. "No orgasm denial for you?"

"It doesn't--" She waves a hand, trying to find the words. "If it's what gets you going, that makes it hotter. But it doesn't do anything for me."

"But mirrors work. Huh." Neal puts her list on his knee and takes a pen.

Peter puts his amended list down. "Are you editorializing?"

"Just decorating it. Go on to the next page; I'm listening."

Elizabeth looks for the similarities on the last page. Neal's illustration for spanking doesn't make it look any less ridiculous than it sounds, da Vinci-esque linework and all; she can tell why it's green for him, but she's not amending her yellow there. Yet.

"Oh, good," Peter says. "The unconscious thing is a no across the board. I was kind of hoping."

Neal wrinkles his nose and doesn't look up from his drawing. "What's the point of having sex if you're not awake for it?"

"Striptease," Elizabeth says, reading one all-green line, and purses her lips at them. "I didn't mean me."

Peter takes her hand and kisses her knuckles. "If you wanted to, I wouldn't complain."

"I--no." Elizabeth squeezes his fingers and goes back to reading. "Teasing--big shock there--and uniforms, military, and no, Peter, you didn't have to draw a smiley face there."

"What I actually meant by that was 'Wear that suit,'" Neal puts in.

Peter stares at him. "Really?"

"It's so incredibly far past time for you to retire that thing," Elizabeth says fondly.

"It might as well get a good send-off." Neal looks up long enough to smirk at Peter. "One rollicking good time before it's ruined forever."

"Rollicking--" Peter shakes his head. "Only you, Caffrey."

Elizabeth laughs. "I didn't mean that suit at all. So--moving on. Voyeurism, that's convenient."

"Somewhere between 'convenient' and 'if we didn't like it, we wouldn't be in a--this kind of relationship.'" Neal glances up again. "I mean--"

"It's a relationship," Peter says firmly. "I don't do one-night stands."

Elizabeth shakes her head at them. "It's been a relationship for a while now," she points out. "Just a different one."

"Washing each other's going to be rough," Peter says, looking back at the lists. "Our shower's not big enough for three."

"We can take turns." Neal looks up at Elizabeth for a moment that makes her aware of him all the way to her toes, then looks back at his paper. "Am I the only one who voted for writing on the body?"

Peter clears his throat. "No. But that's another thing where we'd have to be careful, especially if one of us is going undercover."

Elizabeth waggles a highlighter at him. "These things wash right off."

"Which ruins the point, doesn't it?" Neal straightens up and sets Elizabeth's paper on the table. It has a drawing for "mirrors," larger and more elaborate than the other doodles: Elizabeth facing forward, naked, with Peter just behind her, one hand on her breast, kissing her neck. Elizabeth's eyes are open and she's smiling like she knows a secret.

She stands and comes over to kiss him at length. "Thank you. It's beautiful," she says, when she's had almost enough for the moment.

"So are you," Neal says, with a twist of his mouth that isn't his normal breath-taking smile, but looks entirely sincere.

"Tell me again how you can keep these safe from all prying eyes, including the FBI," Peter says, "or that page goes in the shredder, and then up in smoke."

Neal smiles again, taking this as a backhanded compliment. "Should I give you the details here, or on my knees?"

Elizabeth swallows hard and sets the first boundary. "Not in the dining room, Neal."

"No?"

She offers him a hand up. "The floor's not very comfortable. I mean, compared to the bed."

Peter pushes his chair back and stands. "I need to hear about the methods you have in mind before you leave."

"First of all--" Neal gathers up all the pages and takes down one of the coffee table books from the bookshelf, with huge, lush pictures of Belize. He tucks the pages between a display of fruit in a market stand and a beach, then puts the book back on the shelf, eyeing the way it lines up with the others. "Not exactly high-tech, but I don't think anyone's going to toss the place in the next few days."

Peter frowns at the thought. "I damned well hope not. Now I'm wondering what I'd find if I had a warrant for June's."

It feels like he's pushing too hard to Elizabeth, but Neal smiles and moves close enough to Peter to hug him. "Nothing that would surprise you after that set," he says, sounding entirely calm. "A few full-length nude studies of you, one of Elizabeth--I'll bring them over next time I come."

"Nothing illegal?"

"I don't keep incriminating evidence in my place of residence," Neal says, and kisses him.

Peter breaks it quickly, laughing. "You mean you don't do it anymore?"

"Not since I moved into a place where federal agents drop by without calling first." Neal runs his fingers through Peter's hair. "Besides, 'incriminating' is such a specific word."

"Neal," Elizabeth says, and he turns to look at her. "I need you to promise me something."

"What?"

She bites her lip. "Not as part of a game, just--"

"El--" Peter lets Neal go.

"No, I changed my mind," she says, and doesn't glance at Peter. If she looks at him, she won't see Neal's reaction. "I know you're not going to do anything that would hurt us, or get you hurt, unless you have to, so there's no point in making you promise."

He freezes for a long moment, all his normal defenses failing him, before he says, "No, you're right." Neal punches Peter lightly in the shoulder. "Tell me again how you landed a woman this much smarter than you?"

"Same way I got you," Peter says, looking wry. "A little surveillance, a little hope, a lot of dumb luck."

"In slightly different proportions," Elizabeth says. The warmth in Peter's eyes is getting to her, and if she watches them together much longer, she's going to talk herself out of the only rule she's set so far. "Go upstairs, Neal."

He hesitates. "Are we done with the serious relationship talk?"

"I am. Peter?"

"If you both are."

Neal nods. "So--anything particular you want me to do upstairs?"

She thinks over the things on his list that stuck with her most. "You wanted to kneel a minute ago. Get on your knees on the bed."

"And don't even think about--" Peter gropes for a word "--touching yourself."

"What should I think about instead?"

"How you keep files safe from the damn government. And what you're in the mood to, to beg for." Peter looks at Elizabeth. "Anything else?"

She gives him an encouraging smile. It wasn't the smoothest order in the world, but it was pretty good for him. "That'll be enough to start with."

Neal nods and goes with a bit of a bounce in his step, humming something Elizabeth doesn't recognize. When the bedroom door creaks open upstairs, Peter gives her an incredulous look and says, very quietly, "I can't believe I just said that."

"You tell him what to do all the time, don't you?" Elizabeth comes over and hugs him tightly.

"Yes, but that's not the same. That was--" He buries his face in her hair. "That was pretty dirty."

Elizabeth pats his shoulder. "Good job, honey. Do you know what you want to do next?"

"Just about, yeah." He gives her a crooked smile. "I don't have a repressed desire to order you around. I promise."

"Good; I wouldn't dance up the stairs humming if you tried it." She kisses his cheek. "How long do you think it would be before he got bored and came downstairs?"

Peter considers this. "Oh, five minutes of doing what we said, plus five or ten minutes of going through the bedroom looking at things in case he missed any clues--maybe twenty minutes, tops?"

"Let's not push it." She gives him another quick squeeze, then lets him go, holding onto one hand to pull him toward the stairs.

"Not yet," Peter says, and follows her up.

Neal is on his knees on the bed with the covers pulled neatly down so it looks inviting. He's facing the door with his hands on his thighs, and still wearing his pajamas. When Elizabeth comes in, he grins. "That was quick."

"I don't want to hear it," Peter says from behind her. "This is no time to flirt, Caffrey."

"Isn't it?" Neal gives Elizabeth a hopeful look. "You told me to think about what I wanted."

Elizabeth does her best to look stern and shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Neal, but I think you have to earn whatever it is the hard way."

"What's the hard way?" he asks, shifting on his knees.

"How did you forget already?" Peter shakes his head. "You haven't been up here three minutes and you're pretending you don't know what I want."

"I can't just give you all my alleged secrets," Neal protests. "If I do, not only will I get in more trouble than I even want to think about, but you'll have to report things, and--" he ducks his head, either hiding a smile or a guilty look. Elizabeth isn't sure which. "I don't want you to get in trouble for protecting me."

"Worry about yourself," Peter says, and puts his arm around Elizabeth's waist. "And start talking."

Neal swallows hard, but there's still a smile around his eyes when he says, "I really want to be naked, as soon as--as soon as you'll let me."

"Take your shirt off," Elizabeth says, feeling like a mix between the good cop and the lascivious cop Peter's refusing to be.

Peter snorts like he doesn't appreciate how handsome Neal is; Elizabeth knows it's an act, and trusts that Neal does, too. "Where are you going to hide the pictures?"

Neal tosses his pajama top toward the end of the bed. "Remember the Wells Fargo thing?"

Elizabeth doesn't, though she got to hear about every new exploit Neal pulled in the years when Peter was hunting him down. She says, "No," just before Peter says, "Of course."

"There was a swap involving armored trucks and guards," Neal says. "And--"

"If you're telling stories, you might as well put on a show," Peter interrupts him. "Touch your nipples or something."

"Or something?" Elizabeth asks softly. They're going to have to work on the dirty talk thing.

Neal has his finger and thumb in his mouth already. "One at a time, or both?" he asks, and he shivers once. It isn't cold in the bedroom, even for someone sitting around without a shirt.

"One at a time," Elizabeth says. "Switch when you want to. Wells Fargo?"

"Bearer bonds--" he only stammers a little over the words, his fingers busy teasing his nipple "--are hard to forge, in the grand, grand scheme of things. And, there was, it was a bait-and-switch, it wouldn't work now, too many. Too many computers." Neal bites his lip. "But, but in nineteen-ninety--when was it?"

"Ninety-eight," Peter says, his voice gruff. Elizabeth leans against him. "Hurry it up."

Neal blinks at him. "The story or the --" he wiggles his free fingers at Peter.

"The story. The other part, take all day if you want."

"It's complicated," Neal protests.

Peter sighs and walks, stalks over to the bed and kisses him hard for three breaths, then breaks away. Neal makes a noise that sounds more like a whimper than anything. "Finish the story for El and tell me what the hell it has to do with the problem I told you to fix or--or get dressed."

Neal looks hurt, but also like he's trying not to laugh. The second emotion seems closer to the truth. "I'm working on it."

"Work faster." Peter licks his lips and backs away.

"There were safe-deposit boxes, a couple, no, four I think." Neal bites his lip, then wets his fingers again. "Some of them had innocent stuff, fake wills for people who aren't real, some of them--mm--hid the bonds. That I made. Allegedly."

Elizabeth can't watch him without doing something any more, so she sits on the bed next to him and starts rubbing his shoulders. "So you want to put the papers in a safe-deposit box?"

"One of--eight maybe." Neal leans against her hand. "Bait, switch, boring stuff--and you need an alias." He looks at her with slightly glazed eyes. "You look like an Amelia. Amelia--what's your mother's maiden name?"

She kisses him, not as viciously as Peter had, but lingering long enough that it's hard to let him go. "Oh, Neal. I think you know, and I'm not going to tell you."

He smiles. "So we get you--we get you a fake ID, and play pass-the-papers with some of Peter's. Round and round they go, and where they stop--"

"I need to know," Peter says firmly. "I don't think you do."

Neal shakes his head. "Doesn't matter, doesn't matter to me. No reputation left to lose."

"Take your pants off." Peter's voice is much too sweet to sound stern, but Neal scrambles like he's barking orders. "So the Wells Fargo bonds are in a box out there somewhere?"

"Allegedly," Neal says. He's sitting on the bed next to Elizabeth now, naked and faintly sweaty.

"How much are they worth?" Elizabeth asks.

Neal frowns, then his expression clears. "Nothing, now." He glances at Peter. "See, if someone tried to cash them in, the good people of the Federal Bureau of Investigation would tip the bank off, and it would all come crashing down around their ears."

"What's their face value?" Peter asks, standing in front of them and doing a reasonably good job of pretending he doesn't have an erection.

"God, would you stop interrogating me and touch me?" Neal reaches for him. "I told you what you wanted to know."

"Not all of it."

Elizabeth bites Neal's earlobe lightly and he gasps. "Do the math," she says, and wraps her hand around his cock. He's shivering harder now, slick with impatience, and his hips jerk at her touch.

"Oh, fuck." Neal closes his eyes tightly. "In ninety-eight dollars, I--God, Elizabeth, that's--I can't think."

"Come on, Neal." Peter kisses him again. "How much?"

"Seven hundred--fifty thousand." He catches Peter by the shoulder, his hips thrusting into Elizabeth's hand. "Kiss me again. Harder. God--you should, you have to--to fuck me, please."

Elizabeth bites her lip, trying not to laugh and break the mood of the game, trying to remember that she's not supposed to be on Neal's side, here. She wants him to get what he wants, to watch him shake with it, but not just yet. Peter's staring at him, lost for words, so she picks it up. "How much is that in modern dollars?"

The look in Neal's eyes when he turns to look at her is startled anguish with a underlayer of respect. "I have no idea."

Peter laughs, but it's the right tone for the moment, not the sympathetic sound of someone giving in or the embarrassed laugh of someone who knows how ridiculous they're all being right now. "It's your cache. Don't pretend you don't know."

"Peter--"

"Tell her."

"I--" He bites his lip hard for a few moments, frowning.

The expression reminds Elizabeth belatedly of the concept of a safeword, and she resolves to bring it up as soon as they're done. They're not doing anything that's hurting anyone, and she trusts Neal not to admit to anything that would really involve a lot of money or something that could still get him in trouble, but they should've set ground rules before they started.

"Oh, stop the dramatics," Peter says. "Round off if you have to." He kisses him again, either to distract him or to give him more time to think, or both.

Neal clutches at his shoulders when Peter goes to pull away. "About--about a million, I don't know exactly. Is that good enough?"

Elizabeth wants to say, "You're amazing," because she knows how good she wouldn't be at math or remembering that kind of detail if someone had a finger on her clit, but it seems too gentle.

"One million dollars." Peter unties his bathrobe and drops it on the floor. "If we hadn't figured out how to identify them the third time you tried to pass one."

Neal laughs, though the sound is half-choked. "Institutional memory's short. You think they'd still remember to check for the signs?"

"If they want to have a dime in their vaults, they'd better." Peter smiles at him, looking less fierce every second. "Lie down?"

Elizabeth lets Neal go and uses the time he's spending in reorienting himself to strip off her sweats. When she's naked, Peter kisses her. "I should have you train the new kids in interrogation."

"They might have a few problems with the methodology," she says, and he shrugs.

"It's not about the hands-on part, it's the timing. And the mean streak." Another kiss, and he lets her go, moving to lie next to Neal. "So, Caffrey."

Neal wraps his arms and one leg around Peter. "Do you seriously expect me to call you 'Agent' in bed?--Right, roleplaying." He takes a deep breath, then laughs. "Not today, okay?"

"Whatever you need," Peter says, and kisses him gently.

Elizabeth can see the tension easing out of Peter's shoulders as he loses the bad-cop role entirely, but Neal is too wound up to relax in the same way. "He told you, Peter," she says, trying to keep the stern note in her voice that Peter's losing. "Begged you, actually, just like you said he should."

"That was half your fault," Peter says, sitting up enough to look at her.

"Not really." Neal reaches toward her, palm up. "Mostly it was having permission to ask."

Elizabeth moves over next to Neal and he turns to kiss her. "Are you done asking?"

Neal frowns. "I--the moment has passed, hasn't it?"

"The first one." She kisses him harder, running her fingers through his hair. "You did what Peter asked, but I haven't told you to do much of anything."

She's close enough to feel him catch his breath at that. "Oh--god." Neal sighs through a smile. "What do you want?"

Elizabeth isn't much better at saying honestly filthy things than Peter is, but it helps that Neal already broke the ice on that count. "You said you want Peter to--to fuck you. All right--on one condition."

Peter reaches over Neal and puts his hand on her hip. "We don't have to if--"

"Just listen," she says, and it comes out more sharply than she expects it to.

Neal shivers against her, but he's grinning. "Yes, ma'am?"

There are any number of ways she could say it, if she could say all the dirty things she's got in her mind without losing her nerve or laughing. She thinks about making some kind of sandwich joke, but it sounds too crass. "I want you inside me while he does it."

"Oh, god, El," Peter says.

"That's--" Neal is flushed, but not with embarrassment. "Yes. Please."

She props herself up on one elbow, trying to feel nonchalant and in control instead of like she's as shaky as he looks. "Have you done this before?" It was on any number of the lists she rejected, along with other straightforward things, but she doesn't regret the omission. It's much easier to ask about this than it would've been to ask if Neal wanted to take orders.

"It's been a while."

Elizabeth is afraid to ask how long that is, exactly; if it's something to do with Kate, she doesn't want to reopen the old wound, and if it was someone else, she's not sure she wants to know about it now.

Peter hugs him from behind and kisses the back of his neck, all good cop to balance whatever Elizabeth is managing to project. "Yeah, us too, but we'll take it slow." He amends this, "The, um, anal sex, it's been a while. We don't, didn't go in for threesomes."

"Not really your thing?" Neal asks one or both of them, but he's giving Elizabeth a rueful smile.

She runs her hand down his side and tries to think of the best answer to this under the circumstances. "I bet I'm going to enjoy watching you do it more than I liked doing it myself."

"Except you won't just be watching," Neal says, and there's a promise in his kiss that feels dirtier than her original request.

Peter rolls away for a few moments, then sits up. "This stuff is freezing." The bed creaks as he stands up. "I'll be back in a minute."

Elizabeth can't stop herself from laughing at Neal's expression, which blows a hole in her bad cop routine. "It hasn't been that long," she says. "I mean--some things are pretty memorable."

"Like lube so cold it barely flows." Neal nods slightly. "It would be."

"I'm so glad you're here," Elizabeth says, taking advantage of the mood shift while she can.

"I'm glad I'm here, too," Neal says, and it's what she needed to hear from him--not so overwrought she doesn't believe it, not so mild that it's not reassuring. It's comfortable to hug him in ways she hasn't thought about being comfortable around anyone but Peter in a long time.

In a completely deadpan voice, Peter says, "Oh my god, my partner and my wife," from the side of the bed.

Neal winks at Elizabeth and flails, several seconds too late for it to be plausible even if anyone cared. "Oh no, Peter, I'm so sorry."

Elizabeth tries for the bad cop voice again to see what will happen. "Lie back down, Neal."

He does a pretty good impression of confused and frightened. "But--"

Peter catches him by the chin and kisses him for a long time. "House rules," he says, and doesn't manage to keep himself from smiling a little. "You sneak in here and screw my wife, you get screwed next."

"I didn't sneak--" Neal protests, but Peter cuts him off again with another kiss. If this keeps up, Peter's going to lose his edge again completely.

"I wasn't done with him," Elizabeth says. They stocked up as if they were about to throw an orgy before Neal came over--letting Peter loose in the drug store alone was not one of Elizabeth's better plans, but she'd had to supervise a bar mitzvah and he'd been free for once. There are three different kinds of condoms in both the nightstands, and enough extra lube that it still makes her snicker. She tries to decide between lubed, which seems like overkill, unlubed, and studded ones that look like snow tires. Lubed it is.

"Then we'll share." Peter gets into bed again and tells Neal, "Roll over."

"Really, Peter, I'm--"

Peter smacks his ass before he manages to apologize again. "Stop babbling and make it up to me."

Neal's eyes go wide for a moment, and he grins at Elizabeth. "That's not what I meant by--" another smack "--spanking. Exactly."

"No?" Peter stops. "Not that I care what you think right now," he adds belatedly.

"Of course not." Neal edges backward until he's in Peter's arms. "Just take what you want, all right?"

Peter says, "Oh, God," before he remembers he's supposed to be playing a part. "Just--spread your legs." The command doesn't come out anywhere near as sharply as he probably means it to.

Elizabeth clears her throat, but she can't manage it either, not with Neal inches away, looking amused. "We'll be better next time," she promises Neal.

He shakes his head. "No, you won't. You couldn't be, it's been--" he laughs once. "Better than I hoped."

Elizabeth kisses him and Peter tousles Neal's hair. "I don't know what you hoped for, then," he says. "Not a hell of a lot?"

"All of this." Neal reaches back and catches Peter's hand. "And--oh. You're just doing this to see if you can get me to beg again, aren't you?"

"Maybe." He kisses the back of Neal's neck. "Is it going to work?"

"The thing is, I really do want you to fuck me." Neal sounds much more relaxed than he looks. "Soon, if we can arrange that."

Elizabeth does her best imitation of an arch smile, though she's not feeling anywhere near as mean as she thinks she probably ought to be. "Every time you say that, Peter makes the most--intriguing--face."

Neal turns to look at him, grinning. "Should I say it again?"

Peter's ears are turning red with embarrassment, as though they don't all know what he wants and approve. "Maybe we should work on one of the other things on your list."

"I don't think I put 'silence' down. And I know I vetoed punishment because there's kink and then there's real life." Neal puts his hand on Peter's neck and pulls him into a kiss. "What are you thinking?"

Elizabeth reaches over and takes Peter's hand. "We should've brought the things up here so you could point, shouldn't we, honey?"

He closes his eyes for a second and laughs silently. "Can't say it, can't do it--no." When he looks at her, and then at Neal, his resolve is back, and he pokes Neal's chest. "You voted for orgasm denial."

Neal winces. "I didn't--it doesn't mean never. Or even hardly ever. It's about--"

Peter's smile reassures Elizabeth immensely; it's much better than his terrible porn lines. "It's not one of those newfangled things like furries and, what was it, pegging. Two little words, and I happen to know what they both mean. So. Here's the deal, and you tell me if this is what you're into--" he pauses and licks his lips for long enough that Elizabeth wonders whether he's lost his nerve or if he's just playing.

"What?" Neal asks, and then gives Elizabeth a look that could be frustration or maybe embarrassment, if Neal ever admitted to being embarrassed. "It's all tied up--ouch, how about involved with--with the, um, bondage, and the obedience thing I'm not very good at."

"That's what makes it so great," Peter says, and he flips open the lube. "I want to--" he clears his throat "--have sex with you." He glances at Elizabeth with a crooked smile, then looks back at Neal. "But you--well. You want to have to have permission to enjoy it. That's just beautiful."

Elizabeth covers her mouth to stop herself from laughing because it's probably not funny to them. "I don't think that's fair, Peter."

He looks up as if she's called him out on something desperately important. "Why not?"

"Not the thing about having permission." She lets herself smile at Neal; if Peter's back to bad cop, she can work with that. "That's fine. But you don't think it's 'beautiful,' honey."

"Sure I do."

Elizabeth shakes her head and leans over to kiss Peter and cup his erection. "You think it's hot."

"Well, yes." He takes a breath, then pushes her hand away.

"She has a point," Neal says. He's propping himself up on his elbows. "If you didn't like being able to stop me from doing things, well--" he shakes one leg slightly and the tracking anklet makes the sheets rustle "--everything would've worked out differently."

Peter puts lube on his fingers. "You're not quite there yet. Let me talk you through this."

Neal beats his head on the pillow once. "Right now?"

"Right now. But turn over--I don't care how flexible you are, we're not taking this fast."

"There's not going to be a test later, is there?" Neal turns onto his stomach, and Elizabeth takes one of his hands. "I tend to lose track of conversations during sex."

"The only test is--" Peter presses one finger against his ass, then into him, slowly. "The reason it is, yes, damn hot that you want me to tell you when you can come--god, Neal--is I--I love stopping you from doing stupid things. Or smart, illegal things. That's definitely true. But."

Elizabeth reaches up with her free hand and touches Peter's shoulder when he falters. "Keep going, honey."

"Let's face it--being good isn't your forte. Or--" Peter smiles, though Neal can't see him "--it doesn't come naturally to you."

"I'm trying," Neal insists. He squeezes Elizabeth's hand. "I haven't broken any laws since--"

"Don't tell me." Peter leans down and kisses his shoulder blade and starts moving his hand in deeper strokes. "Just don't. The thing is, the best part is, always, when you use the things you shouldn't know, the things you learned for the wrong reasons, for the right reasons, and I get to see you do everything you wish you could be doing."

Neal sighs and rocks his hips back. "Makes sense, I guess--you can go faster."

"And when I can give you permission to do something that's not exactly in the rule books, but isn't really illegal either--" Peter sighs contentedly. "That's like--like giving you permission to, to come. Except in public. You know what I mean."

Neal laughs and rocks his hips back again. "Yeah, I know." He turns his head enough to give Elizabeth a glazed-over grin, then squeezes his eyes shut. "That's--oh, that, don't stop--"

Peter has one hand on his ass, holding him open, and two fingers inside him. "Don't get carried away on me now."

Elizabeth squeezes Neal's fingers. "You still owe me one."

He groans, then collects himself. She can see him work at it, one muscle group at a time. When did he need to learn that skill in this context? "Only one?" He squeezes her fingers back. "Peter--I--I don't want you to stop, but--"

When Elizabeth had said something like that, she'd meant, "This really isn't doing anything for me, honey," but that's not the undertone of Neal's voice at all. Still, Peter stops. "How can I fix it?"

Elizabeth hands him one of the condoms she'd taken out earlier. "Suit up, sweetie, and toss me your pillow."

Neal laughs into the pillow while Peter hands another one over his head, then turns to face Elizabeth. "That. That would be a good start. Got another?"

Elizabeth opens it for him and holds it up. "Get on your side?" she says, and lies down next to Neal.

"Was that enough?" Peter asks when Neal starts to move.

"For right now, yeah. Just--" Neal gasps, then gets his breathing under control when Elizabeth puts the condom on him. "Do you drive each other this crazy before you do anything?"

Elizabeth smiles. "Sometimes, but we're not used to having you here, so it's--" she doesn't want to say "worse," because he hasn't made anything worse, just "--more complicated." She wraps one leg around Neal's waist; that's starting to feel comfortable as well as intensely erotic. With Peter's pillow under her hip and her own behind her, she's got a relatively stable base.

"Good to know." Neal runs his hand down her stomach, then between her legs, and gives her the kind of hungry look she's more used to seeing on Peter when he realizes she's aching for him as badly as he is for her. "Was it the roleplaying, or--"

She kisses him and rolls her hips into his touch, reaching behind herself to wedge the pillow in better. "Everything, all day, since we woke up. But listening to you and, and playing along was--mm." She reaches for Peter, who takes her hand. "Are you ready?"

"If it wasn't bad manners--" Neal blinks, remembering and smiling "--and if I didn't need permission to have an orgasm, I'd be rubbing off on your sheets any second now."

There is a wet, squishy noise as of a lube bottle being used again, and Peter says, "That's definitely not part of the plan here."

"Prove it," Neal says, still grinning. He's still stroking Elizabeth, not in any way that's going to get her off, but in a tease that makes her increasingly sympathetic.

Peter shifts and lets her hand go, then says, "Tell me if I go too quickly. Or anything." He sighs, and there's a laugh under it. "I'm a little on edge."

"It's okay," Neal says, "just--please--ah." He closes his eyes at what must be the first push, probably tentative, knowing Peter. Neal's expression is still wide open, and there's no nervousness there, nothing but eagerness. It's reassuring that he loses his rhythm, that even Neal Caffrey can't do everything in bed, but it's off enough that Elizabeth pulls his hand up to her mouth and sucks his sticky-wet fingers. He looks at her then and says, "Oh, god."

Peter hesitates. "You all right?"

"God--" Neal rocks back onto him. "Yes. Yes, yes, god yes. Elizabeth--I don't know how much of that or, or anything, I can take."

"You know the rules," Peter says, but gruff isn't intimidating, not here, though it makes Neal shiver.

Elizabeth edges toward them enough, finding the right angle with one hand on Neal's cock, so that the next time Peter moves Neal he pushes into her, and she sighs. "One more rule," she says, while they're on the subject.

"Don't--nn--if you think I can talk like this--" Neal shakes his head and laughs against her mouth when she kisses him.

"Easy rule," she promises, and bites his lower lip. "One you know."

Peter puts his hand on her hip, pulling them all closer together for a slippery, full second. "What--what is it?"

Her voice is rough around the edges, entirely the wrong tone for, "Ladies first," but it makes Peter snort and Neal laugh and reach between them again to add the flutter and circling of his fingers to the way he feels inside her. Then they move away again, and she readjusts the too-soft pillows so she doesn't lose them.

"Who's not fair now?" Neal asks, and kisses her again, groaning. "Don't be so gentle on me, Peter."

Peter makes a choked noise that Elizabeth recognizes from the times when she's managed to say just the right thing and his rational, loving brain melts out his ears when he least expects to lose it. "Jesus, Neal--"

Neal whimpers in Elizabeth's ear when Peter takes him up on it. "Like--nn--that. Oh, yes." Some other time, a lot of other times if everything goes right, she will watch them and be able to see how they're affecting each other without having every single thrust of Peter's hips driving Neal into her again and making her clutch at him, begging for more for all of them.

"Just a little more--" Elizabeth moves her hand to Neal's wrist and adjusts his angle and speed slightly. "Right there."

He tries to smile, but loses it in a groan. "Like this?"

Trust a master forger to pick up the right movements fast; she could practically be touching herself on some lonely night, getting exactly what she needs, except that this is so much better, with both of them where she's been wanting them. "God, yes, just like that--don't stop--"

"Oh, El," Peter says, and pats her hip. "Open your eyes, Neal."

"You're so beautiful," Neal says, so close to her face she can feel his breath hitch.

Knowing he's watching her makes it better, as he brings her over the edge into an orgasm that makes her gasp enough that she couldn't say either of their names if she tried, not when her whole body is shaking with pleasure. "Mmm," she says. "That was nice."

"Good." Peter strokes her hip, keeping time with himself.

Neal's fingers pause. "Enough?"

"For right now." She kisses him and tries to match Peter's rhythm again. She's less urgent now, but they're getting more so, and more ragged with it. "Should I suck on your fingers again?"

"No," Neal says, so vehemently she frowns until he finds the next words. "You'll--I'll can't wait if you--do you even know--"

Elizabeth pulls his hand up to her mouth again and he doesn't try to resist at all. "You'll have to show me," she says.

Peter makes a pained sound, except that she knows what that sound means from him, and it's not pained at all. "I give up," he says, and she knows that tone, too. "In--in your own time, Neal."

"Oh, fuck--" Neal buries his face in Elizabeth's neck and puts his arm around her so tightly that it's hard to move. "That's--I--Peter--"

Elizabeth hugs him back. "Come for us," she says, and there's no command in her voice, barely even pleading. It feels as much like a game and not like a game as sitting at the table talking about everything did. "We've got you." She squeezes him with her leg and as many interior muscles as she's ever learned to control consciously.

Neal groans and shakes, and she wishes she could see his face as he comes; he must be as beautiful then as he said she was. "Just like that," Elizabeth says.

Peter stops moving a few beats later, one last tell that he's gone from losing it to lost it, letting go of whatever competition they were having in their heads now that he's won. He says, "Jesus," strangled, and Elizabeth presses her hand against his hip. She knows he knows she's there, and it's enough.

Neal takes a deep breath and moves from clinging to her to something more like cuddling. "That was--" He interrupts himself to kiss Elizabeth.

Peter chuckles. "Enough to make you speechless, huh?" There's enough weight on the "you" to fit any number of aliases.

"Temporarily." Neal reaches back and touches Peter's face. "I think--I think I have to get up."

Elizabeth gets off him, moving as smoothly as she can, and winces in sympathy when Peter lets him go. "Everything all right?"

Neal gives her a sated smile. "Nothing wrong with me a shower won't fix. And--" he yawns "--a nap. Or lunch. Or both."

Peter kisses his shoulder. "We can manage all of that."

Elizabeth doesn't want to let them go yet, but she's increasingly certain that this is going as well as any of them wanted it to. She gets out of bed. "If you give me two minutes in the shower, I can make lunch while you clean up and change the sheets. And the pillowcases." Her former nest is a royal mess.

"Can I come with you?" Neal sits up, moving with less than his normal grace.

"Leaving me to clean up after you," Peter says, and shakes his head. "Typical."

"The sooner I get some food, the sooner I'll be able to get started on hiding those papers." Neal leans over and kisses him lightly.

Elizabeth offers him a hand up and he takes it, leaning on her just enough that she's glad she put it out there. "That sounds like a good idea."

Peter gives them both a crooked smile. "Don't distract each other too much. Or if you do, let me know."

Elizabeth comes around the bed and gives him a kiss. "Of course, honey."

When Elizabeth has the shower running, providing a buffer of white noise, she asks Neal again, "Are you okay with all of this?" She's nearly sure enough of him to believe that he's telling the truth no matter who he's around, but the way he and Peter interact, she needs to double-check. But it sounds awkward, so she adds, "I mean, it was wonderful. You are. I just--" she glances at the door.

Neal's smile is a good first step, but then he leans in and whispers in her ear, "I'll let you know if there's anything I don't like about this as soon as I find something. I promise."

Elizabeth hugs him, feeling a little tension melt away. "You'd better."


End file.
